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  Milly Johnson is a joke-writer, greetings-card copywriter, newspaper columnist, after-dinner speaker, poet, winner of Come Dine With Me, Sunday Times Top Ten author and winner of the Romantic Comedy of the Year award 2016.

  She is half-Yorkshire, half-Glaswegian, so 1) don’t mess with her and 2) don’t expect her to buy the first round.

  She likes cruising on big ships, sparkling afternoon teas and birds of prey, in particular owls. She does not like marzipan or lamb chops.

  She is proud patron of Yorkshire Cat Rescue (www.yorkshirecatrescue.org), The Well, a complementary therapy centre for cancer patients, and the Barnsley Youth Choir (www.barnsleyyouthchoir.org.uk), who have conquered the world and are now moving onto other planets.

  She lives happily in Barnsley with Pete, her long-suffering partner, Tez and George, her teenage lads, Teddy the dog, Hernan Crespo, Vincent and Theo the cats and Alan Rickman the rabbit. Her mam and dad live in t’next street.

  Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage is her twelfth book.

  Find out more at www.millyjohnson.co.uk or follow Milly on Twitter @millyjohnson

  Also by Milly Johnson

  The Yorkshire Pudding Club

  The Birds & the Bees

  A Spring Affair

  A Summer Fling

  Here Come the Girls

  An Autumn Crush

  White Wedding

  A Winter Flame

  It’s Raining Men

  The Teashop on the Corner

  Afternoon Tea at the Sunflower Cafe

  Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage

  Available in ebook

  The Wedding Dress

  Here Come the Boys

  Ladies Who Launch

  First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2016

  A CBS COMPANY

  Copyright © Millytheink Ltd., 2016

  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

  No reproduction without permission.

  ® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.

  The right of Milly Johnson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  Simon & Schuster UK Ltd

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  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978-1-4711-5871-1

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Typeset in Bembo by M Rules

  Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

  Simon & Schuster UK Ltd are committed to sourcing paper that is made from wood grown in sustainable forests and support the Forest Stewardship Council, the leading international forest certification organisation. Our books displaying the FSC logo are printed on FSC certified paper.

  Dear Reader,

  I’d like to thank you for buying this short story because in doing so you’ve helped raise a little bit of cash for a very worthy cause. One of the most worthy.

  You may have read about Claire Throssell in the newspapers or seen her on the TV. On 22 October 2014, Claire’s estranged husband lured their sons to the family home with the promise of a brand-new expensive train set. He barricaded all three of them in the loft and set fire to the house, killing himself and the two boys in an evil attempt to destroy everything in Claire’s world: her children, her home, her memories. And he succeeded because Claire’s world was torn apart. Paul, aged nine, died at the scene, Jack, aged twelve, had horrific burns but survived for a few days in hospital and was able to tell the police what happened before he too slipped away. Claire was left with absolutely nothing but the love of people around her and is in the long, slow process of getting some semblance of a life back together. Until she does, the awful legacy of her ex’s ‘curse’ still stands – and we can’t allow that to happen, can we?

  Claire’s local community in Penistone has been amazing because Claire really has had to start her life from square one. They set up the ‘Care for Claire’ fund to help her. You can find it on this page: www.millyjohnson.co.uk/links. I think it is fair to say that Claire has seen the best and the worst of human nature. As a mother of two boys myself, I can’t imagine what she has gone through, but you don’t need to be a parent to know that the road ahead for her is going to be tough. Claire is dignified and calm, lovely and so strong, and has ploughed her energies into raising money for terminally ill children to realise their dreams, because her boys never got the chance to live theirs.

  Everyone who has worked on this book has contributed their services freely, so ALL profit will go to Claire. Let’s hope, between us, we can give her some more of the help she so badly needs.

  Yes, you may say that the story on the next pages is unbelievable but, as with Claire’s story, there are as many unbelievable things that occur in real life as there are in fiction. So wouldn’t it be nice to imagine, for once, that though horrible things happen to undeserving people, that crazy, wonderful things bring some magic to the deserving too?

  Milly Johnson

  Dear Franco,

  I felt that I had to write to you after seeing you on ‘The Boy who Danced Around the World’ at the pictures yesterday. You was so good. I can tell you are going to be a big star and a very famous dancer. My mam says that she hasn’t seen a boy as handsome as you since she laid eyes on my dad in Butlin’s Pwllheli. He’s very handsome is my da. He’s got blue eyes and jet-black hair just like you have, and he met my ma when she was eight and he was eleven, which is funny because my uncle Effin met my auntie Angharad when he was eleven and she was eight as well at Sunday School. And I’m eight and you’re eleven.

  I suppose I better tell you a bit about myself seeing as I hope we will be penpals. My name is Cariad Williams and I go to school in Dolgellau, which is in North Wales where I was born. My dad’s from Carmarthen in the south but he moved up here when he married my mam. I’m going to be a dancer when I grow up. I have long black hair and brown eyes. It was my birthday last week and I got a puppy. He is a Collie, he is ten weeks old and I’ve called him Fenn. I think he’s going to be quite naughty.

  All right then. I better go and not bother you much more. I hope you enjoy reading this and good luck with getting more film work. I know you won’t be replying but I’ll write again anyway. I’ll draw a little red Welsh dragon on the top left of the envelope so you know it’s me as you’ll have loads of mail I’m sure.

  Lots of love,

  Cariad Williams x

  *

  Hello again,

  Sorry, I haven’t written for a bit. I was so sad to hear about your dad. My dad went to heaven seven months ago, which is why I haven’t sent you a letter for a while. He was in a car crash though; he didn’t pass over like your dad did from his heart going wrong. I know I can’t say anything to make you feel better but I’ve written down a sort of help list of things that I learned for myself. It’s on a separate page so you can stick it on your wall, where I put mine. I miss my dad every day still, but I can think of him without crying now. Well, sometimes anyway. I really wished he had been here last week when I got my GCSE results. Studying at school helped me a lot because I know my da wanted me to do well. I’m not going to be a dancer anymore. No idea what I will be, but I’m sure I’ll find out one day. I just want to make my
dad proud. You’re lucky that your dad got to see you make a big success of your life.

  Anyway, you won’t want to read much so I’ll leave you be.

  Take good care,

  Your friend, Cariad x

  *

  Hi Franco,

  I was so sorry to hear that you had split up with Mary-Jade Wild. I thought you made a stunning couple. You must be awfully sad. So am I at the moment, to be honest. My beautiful big Fenn died a couple of weeks ago. I suppose twelve is a decent age but he was still such a springy boy until a few days back and he went downhill very fast. He fell asleep in my arms at the vet’s and this is the first day that I haven’t cried. Well, I hadn’t until I started writing this note. I know you’ve never replied to my letters because you’ve been so busy but I always felt that you read them and so it helps me to think you’ll be reading this and that I’m not just writing for the sake of it.

  I’ve also split up from Wyn. He couldn’t come to the vet’s with me because he said he was working. Then, can you believe, when we were driving home, there he was snogging Gywneth Owen in the bus shelter. My mam shouted out of the window, ‘Wyn Allun, don’t you ever come around to our house again. We’ve seen what you’re doing behind our Cariad’s back.’ He hasn’t, because he daren’t but he keeps texting. He couldn’t be there for me when I needed him, so he can bugger off.

  Here’s my big news: I’m leaving North Wales and going to live in South Yorkshire. My mam says a change of scenery will do me good because I’ve been very low about Fenn so I’m spending the foreseeable future working in a theme park called Winterworld. My uncle Effin is there a lot of the year doing building work on it. I’m going to manage an ice-cream parlour. The lady who used to run it has done a Shirley Valentine, went on holiday and stayed there. But to Majorca, not a Greek island. Apparently, she had a rotten husband and had been unhappy for a long time. She went on a hen night with a few girls and just refused to come home.

  So, there will be a different address on the letters from now on, just in case you ever decide to put pen to paper. Doesn’t have to be a long letter, a postcard would do.

  Don’t be too sad about Mary-Jade. She doesn’t deserve you if she went off snogging another man. How could she prefer that Harry Berrender to you? (More like Bell-ender!) Anyway – you’re an Oscar nominee and he isn’t. So her loss. Sending a virtual hug.

  Love,

  Cariad x

  *

  Greetings from Winterworld!

  Just a quick one to let you know that I’ve settled in and how my first three months have gone. I totally LOVE managing The Carousel, that’s what they call the ice-cream parlour. The owner – Violet – is absolutely lovely and my, the ice-creams!!! Oh, you would have to try every flavour. My favourite is the sugar plum.

  I’m sharing a house with two new friends. Well, I say ‘friends’: Becky is two years older than me and works in a bank in Leeds and Lacey is my age and is a gym instructor. They are both very pretty and fit and are sort of friendly when it suits them but I know they laugh at me behind my back. They make a lot of jokes about living in Dolgellau, like ‘Do you have electricity there?’ And their favourite joke at the moment is, ‘How many Welsh people does it take to change a candle?’ Ho-blinking-ho. And I caught them looking through my wardrobe and having a good giggle at my clothes once. They like all those designer labels you see, whereas I make a lot of my own. Always have. We never had a lot of money when I was growing up so Mam taught me how to sew. Becky’s boyfriend Josh reminds me of Harry Bell-ender. He makes a lot of sheep jokes. He touched my bum last week in the kitchen but stepped back just when I’d spun around to slap him. Becky walked in and I knew she thought we were ‘having a moment’. ‘What are you doing with Josh?’ she asks, blaming me! You’ll laugh at the next bit. I said, ‘You are joking, right? I could have Franco Mezzaluna and you think I’d be looking at your boyfriend?!’ I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. Well, you could have heard a pin drop. Then they all burst out laughing. I can’t say I blame them really. My mam would have slapped my legs for lying. They started throwing questions at me but I just walked off and said, ‘Look, Franco and I have known each other since we were kids, I don’t care if you believe me or not.’ Well obviously, they don’t. I thought they’d get tired of joking but I was wrong. They call me Mrs Mezzaloony all the time now. Lacey’s boyfriend is called Aaron. He’s one of those blokes who thinks he’s God’s gift but I think he looks more like he’s been bashed in the face by a wok. He was the one who thought up the Mezzaloony name.

  Anyway, this is a really big ask I know, but if there is any way you could send me a signed photo and write on the corner – ‘To My Cariad’ – I’d be ever so grateful. Oh, and put a kiss on it. I’ve never asked for anything before and I really shouldn’t now but I’ve got myself in a mess because they’ve spread it everywhere that I know you personally.

  Hope you are well. Kyra Taylor looks so much softer than Mary-Jade Wild so hope that romance works for you.

  Lots of love,

  Cariad x

  *

  Dear Franco,

  Well, here’s a letter I didn’t think I’d be writing. Guess what, I have made South Yorkshire my home. I love it here. So much beautiful countryside and the people are so warm and friendly. Well, apart from Becky and Lacey. I do wish I had enough money to move into a place of my own. If I had a genie’s lamp, I would rewind to the moment when I suggested that you and I knew each other. It was such a stupid thing to do and I’ve never lived it down. Six months after I said it and they’re still referring to it. You’re the only person I can tell about how unhappy they make me, which is a bit tragic. My mam is just delighted that I’ve settled here and I don’t want to tell her that they’re the blight on my potato. I daren’t tell my uncle Effin because he’d go bonkers and he’s under enough stress as it is with all the builders he has to manage. Sometimes he turns so red, I think his head is going to explode. I’m surprised you haven’t heard him shouting over there in America.

  I had a date last week. A plasterer called Wesley. He is one of Josh’s friends but he didn’t seem like a dick. He came to the flat and we had a cup of tea and a chat and he was really nice. He asked me out so we went for a drink and I was wrong about him – he is a prize idiot. I got the impression that it was all a set-up, a fake date. Becky has a very strange sense of humour. She reminds me of that really nasty girl in the film ‘Carrie’. I tried to rise above it but it upset me. (I wished I were Carrie so I could have made a bucket fly into her head, but I’m not.) Anyway, I’m a big girl so no moaning. On to the important part of my letter.

  When I heard that you were coming to England for your film premiere next month, I thought my heart would burst open with excitement. I was going to take the day off work and come down to London and queue up, overnight if I had to, to see you in the flesh at long last. Even if I had to skive off and risk losing my job, I was still going to. Then I found out you are coming to Yorkshire. THEN I find out you are coming to open the new lagoon in Winterworld. I thought I was going to die with joy.

  Then I started to panic because I haven’t admitted my lie about knowing you but as soon as you turn up to Winterworld, everyone will find out the truth and I’ll be a laughing stock. Becky tried to question my uncle Effin when he came round a couple of weeks ago to put us some window locks on, but he said that he wouldn’t be surprised if me and you were an item and made some nice comment about me being able to attract anyone (bless him, because it obviously isn’t true).

  I’ll be there in Winterworld when you come and because I’m staff, I’ll be right at the front of the stage. I’ll be wearing a pink top and a pink hairband. If there is ANY (oh, please) chance that you can say, ‘Hello, Cariad, see you later’ and give me a wink, I would be so grateful. Obviously, if you don’t, I’ll realise – eventually – that you never read my letters and this will be the last you hear from me.

  Either way, I hope you have continued success. Sorry
to hear you are on your own again. Okay, here’s the truth now. I think Kyra Taylor has dodgy eyes. She could see around corners with the left one. Might do you good to have a break from women for a while. I miss Wyn terrible, I do, but he let me down when I needed him most and I can’t have that, can I? My da always said that if you can’t value yourself, how can you expect anyone else to. He was lovely my da. I wish he were still here with his words of wisdom.

  Love,

  Cariad x

  PS – don’t worry about not sending the photo, I totally understand that you’re busy.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Franco tucked the letter back into the envelope bearing the small red dragon on the top left corner. Every one she had ever sent bore her ‘signature’. He wouldn’t reply, he never did. And now, after all these years, the letters were about to stop and that flicked hard at something deep within his ribcage.

  ‘You listening, Franco?’ His agent Sonny called out to him again. ‘Hey, Franco.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t listening. What did you say?’

  ‘Another letter from your stalker?’

  ‘She’s not a stalker,’ Franco snapped, causing Sonny to hold his hands up in defence.

  ‘Whoa whoa. What’s bitten you on the ass?’ Sonny laughed, sending his chins juddering.

  ‘She’s a sweet kid.’

  ‘. . . who’s been writing to you for . . . is it thirteen . . . fourteen years now without getting a single reply? And yet you still ask me to look out for that red dragon on the mail and not pass it over to the fan-club girls to deal with. Why is that?’

  Franco shrugged an ‘I don’t know’. Although he did know.

  ‘As I was saying, the schedule is tight. You will only be able to stay at that park place for two hours max. Logan will have a car on standby to take you to the airport . . .’